


Whispers in the dark

by grahamthelamb



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt, Hannibal Loves Will, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Will thinks too much, between tome-wan and mizumono, set in Season Two, what are feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamthelamb/pseuds/grahamthelamb
Summary: “Stab the body and it heals,” His voice was calloused, thick with emotion. Will braced himself against the wall, screaming in his mind not to notice. “But injure the heart… And the wound lasts a lifetime.”-Set somewhere between where Hannibal found out and right before Mizumono.





	Whispers in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse other than i am in hannigram hell   
> this is my first public work in the fandom, and its sad AF

It was well beyond how he imagined his night to go. 

Tired limbs dragging his body through the door, greeting his pack. Prepare their dinner, their water bowls. Take a shower, and settle in for a sleepless night. Coated in sweat, mind tangled in nightmares. Suddenly, the looming staccato of reality was more haunting than anything he could imagine. Bodies collided into each other, pressed so tightly the lines were nearly indistinguishable. Where one arm ended, and a torso began. Fingers, hands, mouths touched every visible piece of skin offered. Given. It was dark, features and expressions obscured between the slivers of moonlight peeking through the open blinds. Painting stripes glowing ivory on exposed flesh. The dark welcomed a looming vulnerability. To shed your skin and masks and strip bare. Sighs and whispers decoded through their metaphoric speeches. Everything was open. Wounds, scars… 

 

Hearts. 

 

A sudden bite of sharp teeth into his neck brought him back. Receding into his mind was dangerous. They knew this. He thought too much, too often, too deep. The price of imagination; the woeful truth he had to deal with. That though these possibilities were, if not tangible, within reach – there was already too much damage done. The blood had been shed, and they were here now.

“Will,” Guttural and low. Demanding. “Stay with me.” 

Hands, too hot and too large were smoothing their way up his sides. Softer sighs, lashes fluttering against colored cheeks. It bloomed across the bridge of his nose, spreading in full color down his neck and chest. His own fingers grasped to fabric too expensive to even talk about. Silent victories as he ripped the pearl buttons from threading, scattering to the wooden floor beneath them. The flannel he wore was warming his skin, almost burning. As if sensing it, Hannibal yanked it from him, sending it to join the scattered buttons. 

“I’m here,” Was that his voice? Harsh and thick with lust, “I’m here.” 

Lips, teeth, tongues collided in a brutal kiss. It was rough, demanding, angry, pleading. He tried not to think. Tried to just let it go, let this all go for whatever this was, at the moment. Linger in it, wade through his stream. But he was burning so bright, and the monster pressing him to the dark walls of his home was heavy and hot against him. He had nowhere to go. His mind had nowhere to go. Stormy blue eyes cast a glance towards the window, illuminating the soft snow outside. The wafting scent of cinnamon filling his nostrils, fingers snaring into ashen blonde strands. Unforgiving teeth sucked bruises into his skin, causing obscene sounds to filter between them. They would hurt tomorrow. Will would trace the grooves left from a mouth he knew too well. He would shiver at their memory and resent himself for feeling. 

 

He already resents himself for losing. 

 

“Shit,” A pained hiss as he was turned and slammed into the wall; cheek and chest pressed to the cool surface. Curls were snared into a harsh grasp pulling taut as his throat was exposed forcibly. Stuttered breaths and hushed moans filled his ears, the slow grinding of Hannibal’s hips against him digging deep into the both of them. It was without mercy, without grace. He took, like he so often did. Seeing an opportunity. A chance. The last one he’d have – the last one Will allowed him. Before sending him to the slaughter, like the animal everyone saw him as. 

The beast Will wanted to tame, to cage. 

This was not love, Will told himself. This was not kind. He repeated these words to himself like a mantra, willing down his own confusion, his desperate voices telling him he’s wrong. With the way long fingers dug painfully into his hips, how he was rutted against and used for pleasure. This was a cry; painful and hurt. One last fleeting memory, tucked away in their memory palaces. Hannibal would visit it often, scatter the room with soft lighting and romanticize it. Will would lock it away, deep in the crevices of his mind. Buried deep beneath layers of walls and doors where he would never venture, promise himself no temptation. 

“ _Will_.” 

He wished he didn’t know how desperate his name sounded. On kiss-bitten lips, swollen and bruised from teeth and nips. How the ache in his voice was evident, there. How he just said his name for the sake of it – For the memory. A shuddering breath, the former teacher shut his eyes, willing the thudding of his heart to slow. The bone-deep ache to dull. It shouldn’t hurt this much. This shouldn’t feel like a goodbye for lovers. They were not lovers, he reminded himself. The intimacy was a shroud. It was the smoke over the devil’s eyes. Will Graham seduced the monster, and he seduced him well. The show was convincing. He played his part, rehearsed his lines. There was only the final act left. 

The air was cool as he was suddenly completely exposed. Naked and vulnerable. For a moment, the hysteria between them calmed. The roaring waves that crashed with intent to destroy pulled back. Hands that snared and clawed were reverent; longing. Fingers danced their way across his skin. Tracing scars and virgin flesh alike. His breathing was shallow, as Will halted his own. It was as if he was committing this too. Feeling Will’s skin merely to feel. Not to take, but to explore and learn. 

“Stab the body and it heals,” His voice was calloused, thick with emotion. Will braced himself against the wall, screaming in his mind not to notice. “But injure the heart… And the wound lasts a lifetime.” 

A soft kiss to the center of his spine, a sound between a sob and a choked noise leaving Will’s throat. This is not what he wants. He could push him off now, force him to leave, to just go. Leave already, like he intends. Out of this trap, out of Will’s life. Away from him, from this – all of this. Left to collect dust and time. He should, push him away. He should let this all go. 

Instead he twists his body, snaring the man by his hair and pulling him forward for a kiss. Their lips touch so softly, breath warming over the folds. The familiar prick of tears are behind his lids as they languidly share this moment. But they do not fall. He will not let them. His heart is protected within it’s walls, even now. He refuses to let the man see how fragile he is. How weak those walls really are. That with a gentle press of a palm, they could crumble to ruins. 

“ _Hannibal_.” 

It is a plea and a demand all at once. Desperate and resolute. He does not want to think about what has been done. He does not want to wallow in this pit he found himself in. He chooses, for now, to leave his mind blissfully blank. Into the night, they rock together and find their bodies fit together like a missing puzzle. Through the cries and arches of pleasure, through the gentle fingers in his hair, holding him against the worn mattress, Will finds the resounding hurt in Hannibal’s words echoed with astounding clarity. 

 

_You did this to me._

_You did this to **us**._

 

The tears fall, then. Hidden in the blanket of darkness. A larger body looming over his own as he is claimed from the inside, he lets them fall. Lets the knife twist deep in his chest. Because he deserves this cruel final act. Now that their heartbeats slow from their frantic chase, fingers threaded together in faux peace. A smile splits his lips wide. He could almost laugh were the scene not so morose. To lure a beast, you yourself must become one. And it was too late before Will realized he was no longer pretending. Already snared in the Devil's nest, too far gone to realize it was too late.

_I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry._

In the dark, they are both monsters. Wild and full of teeth. These scars are their own, carved deep into their souls. The thoughts get loud, and he remembers the weight of a warm hand on his chest before drifting into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/captaindorkus_x). 
> 
> punch me on [tumblr](http://www.captain-dorkus.tumblr.com).
> 
> kudos&comments are always welcome. please be gentle with me.   
> //rolls away


End file.
